


A Pitch Black Sky

by DaeofthePen



Category: Addams Family - All Media Types, Katekyou Hitman Reborn!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Author loves to chat in the Comments, Dark Humor, Dimension Travel, Gen, Human Experimentation, Masochism, Minor Character Death, Morticia's growing army of lost children, the Addams aren't human that's for sure
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-26
Updated: 2019-01-01
Packaged: 2019-06-16 14:30:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15439119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DaeofthePen/pseuds/DaeofthePen
Summary: Morticia Addams finds herself in a different dimension. She gets the best welcoming committee an Addams can ask for. AU.





	1. Clothed and Unafraid

**Author's Note:**

> [Normalcy in Nutshell](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6204187) by [arcticapple](https://archiveofourown.org/users/arcticapple/pseuds/arcticapple)  
> [Sic Gorgiamus Allos Subjectatos Nunc](https://archiveofourown.org/works/198422) by [etothepii](https://archiveofourown.org/users/etothepii/pseuds/etothepii)

Morticia blinks at the crowd of men dressed in white coats. Scientists. 

There was quite a crowd of them, and most of them seem to circle around her like vultures.

She so wishes scientists used a color that was less dreary, something… befitting their occupational status. Black, perhaps?

Morticia has much respect for scientists. Aunt Daub had been a scientist - it was too bad she died. Or - at least, Morticia thought Aunt Daub was dead. She had certainly looked it the last time she had come over for Nightshade tea. Aunt Daub’s favorite. 

There’s some strange machinery filling most of the room. A few men stand, gazing at a few screens. Some of the men have Afros. How delightful. 

She smiles at the scientists and says, “Excuse me, gentlemen. Would you happen to know where I am? I seem to be a bit lost.” 

There’s some whispering amongst them and a few of the scientists write notes in their clipboards. Morticia catches a few words of their conversation. 

“Oh!” she starts, switching to Italian, “I apologize. I didn’t realize all of you spoke Italian.” She smiles again and repeats her earlier question. 

Half of the scientists stare at her before going back to writing in their clipboards, only glancing up to scrutinize her from head to toe. They must amazed at how beautiful her dress is. Maybe they would be interested in knowing the brand?

The men at the screens continue talking with each other. Their voices are raised like they are arguing about what the screens are showing and they press a few buttons. Morticia leaves them alone - she must’ve come in while they were in the middle of their jobs. She hopes she isn’t interrupting anything important. 

Three men - who hadn’t been at the screens nor were given the jobs of writing what seems like pages upon pages of essays - come to her and smile politely. 

“Hello, Miss…” the man on her left begins and trails off. He holds his hand out, as if to shake. The third man on the right passes by Morticia to stand behind her. 

“Mrs. Addams, “she replies and lets him take her hand. 

And she blinks at her newly handcuffed wrist. The man behind her grips at her left elbow. His other hand lifts her left hand up to handcuff it, too. Morticia lets them. 

The handcuffs bite nicely at her skin. 

“Mrs. Addams, you are in an alternative universe. An alternative world, if you will, “the man explains, his smile stretches wider like he’s trying to imitate her great-great Aunt Splotch - who died after getting shot 246 times in her attempt to escape the asylum. Now she works at the asylum. “We have been testing dimensional traveling technology for years. You are the first live subject we have managed to bring.”

The scientist gestures at the large machine. The machine arcs over her like a rainbow, but it has a nice, decrepit look to it that Morticia can appreciate. Unlike rainbows. 

It covers much of the dreary, white walls, and while Morticia would recommend they just paint the horrid color away, covering it up works just as well. 

Then the man’s words sink in. 

“Another world?” she asks. Morticia recalls Cousin Globule had jumped worlds a few times in the last century. Perhaps not to this one, then, if all the previous attempts had failed. Morticia had been their first successful attempt. 

These people wanted to be like Cousin Globule!

She smiles at the men and asks, “How lovely! Is there anything I can do to help?” She doesn’t have the liquidity of Cousin Globule nor the technical expertise of Aunt Daub, but she was still an Addams. Dimensional travel was in their blood. It was right next to the viper venom. 

The man at her right gazed at her with beady little eyes. They could barely be seen under the afro, and they stared at her as if she was a fascinating bug to be dissected. Marvelous. 

Get rid of that drab white and replace it with a better wardrobe, and he would make a wonderful Addams. Was Cousin Globule looking for a new husband? They certainly had similar interests. 

The man on the left - the one with a less exciting hairstyle and uninteresting eyes - pulls her by the handcuffs. He leers and replies, “You will be very helpful to our research. In fact, we have a few tests for you.”

The man behind Morticia grabs her roughly. It’s so reminiscent of Lurch when he’s treating guests to the Addams hospitality. 

Morticia is all, but dragged into a different room. A room with a flat, old table in the center which is surrounded by all kinds of sharp knives and pointy instruments. She frowns. These men could learn a thing or two about properly rusting weapons. Every instrument was spotless and gleaming. And there’s not a single flail nor bed of nails in sight. Not even a rack! What kind of dungeon were these men running?

In fact, who were these men?

“Oh, how rude of me. I forgot to ask for your names in all the commotion.” Morticia apologises. She lets herself be laid out on the table and her limbs be strapped. 

The uninteresting man grins. “We’re the Estraneo Family, “he says, like it means something. 

The man with the beautiful eyes speaks up, “I am from the Bovino Family, and our Families have collaborated in this project.”

Right. This was a different world and - most likely - different customs. Morticia wonders if she was meant to introduce herself saying she is from the Addams Family. It is a strange way to phrase things, but she hopes she didn’t accidentally make a cultural faux pas. She quickly rectifies this and replies in kind, “It is wonderful to meet you. And I am from the Addams Family.”

Their eyebrows lift in surprise. Most likely in surprise at how quickly she picks up the local dialect. 

The men exchange glances, but don’t reply as they step away from the table. The third man - who had strapped her down, how  _ bold  _ \- hurries to join them. 

A different set of men walk in and step up to the table where she lays, scapulas at the ready. 

Morticia protests as they shred the sleeve of her dress, “I could have rolled up the sleeve, if you’d asked.” It occurs to her that this is the only dress she has in this world and she frowns. Morticia continues, “What am I to wear if my only dress reduced to shreds?”

The men don’t reply. In fact, it feels like they’re ignoring her. They prick the bend of her elbow with a syringe with a cord leading to a tube. 

They fiddle with it for a bit - pumping it a few times and taking it out before sticking it back in - before Morticia realizes what they want from her.

“Oh! You want my blood, “she notes aloud. Morticia lets go of the tight hold on her blood and it seeps into the syringe. She doesn’t understand why they’d go with this method to get her blood. There are much more efficient ways of drawing blood.

The tube is then filled quickly with her blood and the men move on to filling two, three,  _ four  _ small tubes with her blood. The man with the syringe is shivering and his hands shake as he finally draws back. His expression is unnerved.

Morticia smiles encouragingly at him and he scurries away, taking the bloody tubes with him.

She turns her smile to the next man that steps up, looking just as unnerved.

Morticia watches him curiously as he cuts a few squares of her skin to set in trays and be carried away. A small hum of pleasure purrs deep in her throat. The pain is nice, but nowhere as good as it could be. Unrusted instruments tend to be like that.

“You tease, “Morticia scolds lightly, her voice a touch deeper. Despite their inexperience in causing pain, she thinks Gomez would like them. 

There’s a touch of wildness in their eyes. Fear. 

Morticia can’t see why, even when she follows their eyes to the holes in her skin. Do they want her to make them bleed, too?

Before she can ask, one of the scientists hesitantly walks forward and hovers over her restraints. He glances at her, at the holes in her skin, before turning back to his fellow scientists. His expression pained. Pleading. 

It twisted the scar on his face nicely and Morticia takes a moment to admire him. It distracts her enough to not see the other side of the silent conversation happening among the scientists.

“Are you… erm, are you in pain?” There’s no concern behind the question, only confounded curiosity. 

“Not nearly enough, “Morticia purrs in a rough voice. Her disappointment leaks into not only her voice, but also her expression.

He mumbles under his breath and his volume rises as his composure breaks down. His words devolve into a series of no’s, said over and over again.

Being a scientist must be a stressful job. And without a rack, there’s nowhere for them relax and unwind from the stress of the job!

The rambling scientist scrambles away from her and bolts out of the room. They’re left in a tense silence.

The poor dears. Once Morticia finds out who is in charge around here, she’s going to make sure they know how much they’re failing their employees!

One of the men that had talked to her earlier walks up to her. He was the one from the Estraneo family, Morticia recalls. He’s fidgeting with the edge of his scientist coat and glances at various points in the room - everywhere except at her. 

“H-How about we show you to the room you will be staying in?” 

“That would be lovely!” Morticia replies. She slithers out of her bindings like an Addams and picks herself off the table. It had been getting warm anyway.

The Estraneo scientist opens his mouth and closes it a few times, like he can’t quite decide what to say. Morticia smiles beautifully at him. It wasn’t his fault he was overworked and had no access to a rack to destress afterwards.

He seems to decide against speaking a word and meekly shuffles out of the room. She trails behind him.

Morticia will commend the interior decorator for losing the white. The walls of the hallway are cement gray. Perhaps only the rooms were painted white?

However, they could stand to have more wall decorations. A few ancient, rusted weapons wouldn’t go amiss. And they could change the smell of disinfectant to something more charming. The smell of rotting wood was said to have calming effects.

Her guide leads her down an elevator and ushers her deeper into the building. The hallways here have walls made of sturdy looking metal. 

Her guest room has a thick, bolted door that requires her escort to swipe a card and enter a numbered password. 

It also has no windows.

The moment Morticia steps in, the door is slammed closed and she can hear the electronic sound of the lock. It’s pitch black with no light source to allow normal eyes to see anything. However as an Addams, it takes merely a blink for her eyes to adjust into night vision. 

The room is completely bare. It’s essentially a metal cube with a bolted door. 

Her hand brushes the walls and lets the chill seep into her skin. It reminds her a bit of home. She misses her family already.

Morticia lays down on the hard ground that reminds her of her and Gomez’s unyielding bed, and falls asleep to soothing nightmares.

\---

Morticia wakes to distant screams that don’t come from her dreams. 

She rises to her feet and stares consideringly at the door. No one had told her that she couldn’t explore, had they? They would probably be most worried about her getting lost, but Morticia could always wander until she found someone who could direct her to her room.

The screams don’t sound like they come from the same floor she is on. A lower floor perhaps?

It’s a simple straight line to the elevator she remembers walking from yesterday. Her room seems to be the closest to it and she notes the other bolted doors similar to her own for later exploration.

The elevator shows that there are 4 more lower levels. Hm. From how distant the screams are coming from and the thickness of the walls… 

Morticia walks out of the elevator on the lowest floor, satisfied to know that she was right. The screams are much closer.

She frowns. From this close, it’s much easier to note the lack of pleasure in the screams.

This floor is different from the other two she had caught a glimpse of. It lacked the many, many rooms, and in fact, had only but a single door at the end of the short hall. 

The door opens silently and Morticia resists the urge to frown again. No squeaky doors? How did these people live with themselves?

The room is large - larger than any of the rooms she had been shown before - and very, very white. You could probably blind someone with all that white. The room is filled with all sorts of sleek and shiny contraptions. There’s blood on some of them. 

And at the center of the room is a dull, metal table like the one she had been restrained in yesterday. There’s a child on it. 

The child has tufts of light brown hair and has been opened at the stomach. Some scientists are are poking around in his intestines. The air smells of stomach fluid. 

Morticia walks up to the nearest scientist - who turns out of be one sitting further away from the action and seems to be recording the proceedings. There are various screens in front of him and Morticia can match the angle of the film to the multitude of recording devices hanging over and near the table. 

“Excuse me-“ Morticia speaks up. She places a gentle hand on the man’s shoulder. 

The man jerks up to his feet - knocking her hand off his shoulder - and gives a small shriek. The other scientists startle. 

These poor, poor scientists. Morticia hasn’t met a single one that has looked unstressed by their profession. 

He looks at her, then at the door - which she had left ajar - and back at her. Had he not heard her come in? Oh right. The door hadn’t squeaked to announce her presence. 

There’s a click and Morticia turns to see a few of the scientists have pointed guns at her. 

The scientist seems to find his bearings and speaks, “How did you get in here?” He eyes her from top to bottom before focusing on her tattered sleeve. Her skin holes have long since healed in her sleep and her sleeve is all that remains of that interaction. Morticia wonders what they’re doing with her skin. And blood. 

“Why, I just came down the elevator and followed the screaming, “she responds. How else would she have found this room? Oh, wandering around long enough could’ve done the trick, too. 

“Just came down the-“ the man sputters and then stops. He squints at her. “You’re that new experiment. The one that survived the trip through dimensions.” 

“Yes, that’s me!” Morticia beams at them. It’s strange to think that she’s the first evidence of the existence of multiple dimensions. This world is centuries behind. 

The man grabs a hold of her wrist and drags her forward. 

“You should be in your cell! How did you get out of there?!” 

He pulls her toward the door, but looking back, Morticia remembers what she had started a conversation for. She stops. 

“Oh, yes. That boy-” Morticia says and points to him, arm straight. Had to make sure there was no confusion as to who she was talking about. “He doesn’t seem to be enjoying himself very much. Why do you continue?” 

The scientist struggles, trying to pull at her arm - feet sliding on the polished floors, yet going nowhere, like trying to pull a stone statue - before seeming to realize how foolish he was looking. Silly man.

He lets go of her arm and stands. Puffs himself up like a Condor.

“I- yes, “he says, voice strangled, “he is doing this for the greater good of this Family. He  _ should  _ be grateful.”

Morticia tuts at him and says, “Come now, gratefulness can’t be forced upon.”

She turns around and walks to the boy. A squawking noise comes from behind her. Morticia can hear the scientist’s hurried steps, but she is still slightly surprised when he roughly grabs her shoulder and arm to wurl her around. Morticia wrangles with him for a few moments in confusion. She doesn’t want to accidentally hurt him.

A gun goes off. 

Panic and itchy fingers turn out to be a bad combination, and the other scientists seem to swept along in the panic. 

There’s enough shots being taken for this to be a gunfight. And now she and her dress are full of holes! Morticia mourns the beautiful dress. 

The scientist falls to the ground, body full of holes. 

Morticia turns to the other scientists - her brows furrowed in confusion and a question at the tip of her tongue - but pauses when another round of shooting starts. She waits them out. 

She absentmindedly speeds up her body’s natural healing. It’s too bad she can’t do the same for her dress.

Her bullet holes close. 

Empty guns shake in the hands of the scientists, their expressions brimming with terror. Their knuckles are white from clinging to their guns so tightly.

Scientists are some really high-strung people. She doesn’t give Aunt Daub enough credit for being one of them.

But still.

“Don’t you think it’s a bit rude to shoot a guest?” she asks. 

Morticia picks her way over the bullet shells and leassurly steps up to the table. The boy is quietly whimpering in pain. His little face is scrunched up and red. Tear tracks down each side of his face to his ears and disappearing into his hairline - where he had hair, most of it being badly shaved off. 

“Hello dear, “Morticia murmurs, “you don’t seem to be enjoying this painful experience.”

The boy - possibly 12 years old - blinks up at her, expression still contorted in pain and looking very unhappy. 

“Say no more!” Morticia says. She turns to the live scientists. “Would you gentlemen mind putting this dear child together again?” She gestures at the opened stomach.

The scientists don’t move.

They stand there, staring at her as if she’s some horror come to life. It was flattering, but really.

“Well?” she asks.

One of the scientists near Morticia - still holding a gun like a lifeline - speaks, “We ca- This is a very important experiment that we were in the middle of!” The woman’s fear leaks into frustration and she jams a fresh magazine into her gun. She aims it at the boy’s temple.

Morticia frowns.

Looks like she was going to have to do everything around here.

She slams a hand onto the table and heaves herself over it - towards the woman. Her shoe meets the gun with a  _ clack! _ and the gun goes flying.

The woman’s severed head meets the ground seconds after. Blood drips from her hand - nails as hard and sharp as any knife. And she has ten of them.

It seems the dead woman’s attempts snapped the other scientist out of their fear clouded headspaces and they, too, struggle to find more ammunition. 

It’s unfortunate that their attempts came much too late.

Morticia eyes the bloodstained walls. It covered much of the white - an improvement, in Morticia’s honest opinion.

She strolls back to the center of the room, and gives a small, dismissive glance at the cameras positioned throughout the lab.

“Hello again, dear, “Morticia says to the boy, “It seems I’m going to have to be the one to put you back together again.” She smiles encouragingly. 

The boy is still crying, but he nods. Morticia looks him over for a moment.

“Would you like to be untied first? Or would you prefer I close you up as is?” she asks.

He seems to consider her question - wrists wiggling and testing the bindings - before he replies, “I-... Please untie me…”

Morticia smiles down at him, “Alright.”

His wrists and ankles are smudged with drying blood, but he voices no protest.

“Alright now, stay laying down. Getting up now might cause all your intestines to slip out, “Morticia jokes, chuckling softly under her breath. 

The boy stares at her, terrified.

“...To soon?” she asks.

She takes the silence as a ‘yes.’

Morticia clears her throat awkwardly. Perhaps it was best to get started now?

The silence was still terribly uncomfortable… 

“...What’s your name, dear?” she asks as she gently unpins the flaps of skin that keep his stomach open.

He squirms and makes a light noise of protest as she flips them over to cover his intestines. 

“I’m- “the boy begins and considers it, “My name is Luca.”

Morticia looks around for a minute before finding what she’s looking for: a knife and a bowl. 

“What a lovely name, “she replies. 

She slices deep in her arm and lets the blood drip into the bowl. Once she deems it enough, Morticia stops the blood flow. 

She exchanges the knife in her hand for the bowl and turns to Luca. He looks at her suspiciously. 

With a smile, Morticia begins. She slowly writes a healing magic circle around Luca’s stomach, with a few added bonuses. 

Blood magic had always been one of her passions. That and curses. 

Placing a gentle palm on the stomach, Morticia activates the seal. Tendrils on darkness and other drift from the lines, wrapping over the stomach, and sink into unblemished skin. 

She removes her hand. 

Morticia combs the boy’s bangs to the side and bends down to press a kiss to his sweaty forehead. 

“You did wonderfully, Luca” she says encouragingly. She pulls away to let him sit up.

Luca prods and pokes at his stomach, eyebrows scrunched in confusion and wonder. His little head turns to her and she can see many questions on his face.

Unfortunately, more scientists burst through the doors, guns at the ready. Perhaps someone  _ had  _ been watching through the cameras after all. 

Luca jumps down and hides - crouching - behind the table. Smart boy. It means he’s less likely to get hit by a stray bullet.

It also means he doesn’t see the blood of the scientists be spilled.

She leaves on alive and grips him by the white collar. “Release the children, “Morticia orders. Her voice is cold.

“M- Monster…” he whispers. The man trembles in fear and scratches at her hands, but it does nothing to help his escape. He nods frantically - still gripping her wrists to no avail - and says, “Just let me-... I can let them out!”

Morticia nods in approval. Seeing a person at their wit’s end was delectable.

She tugs the man to his feet and out the door, but she looks back before she, herself, steps out.

“Would you like to come with us, Lucas?” Morticia asks. She can hear his little rabbit heart beating rapidly. 

There’s a moment before Lucas hesitatingly peeks over the metal slab. His beady little eyes flickered from her to the scientist fidgeting at the door. 

Lucas slowly stands from his hiding position and cautiously moves towards them before stopping - keeping a safe distance between them, smart boy. 

Morticia turns away and gestures at the scientist to lead the way. 

There is a tense silence as Morticia and Lucas follow the scientist to the elevator.  The scientist’s shoulders are stiff, twitching and shivering occasionally in fear. 

There’s some shuffling that happens at the elevator as the scientist is the first inside - staying close to the buttons - and Lucas skirts around the edges of the elevator to stand at far away as physically possible to the man. 

This leaves Morticia the rest of the elevator to herself and means that she is standing front and center when the door opens to reveal many more scientists, waiting at the ready with interesting weaponry. 

A large metal machine shoots a laser which cuts her legs off. Morticia tumbles onto the floor disgracefully. 

Lucas and their scientist companion press themselves to the walls. Hopefully, away from the laser’s reach. 

Her dress! The laser sliced through her at thigh length leaving it as a-... a minidress! It doesn’t even have the cheerful tentacle impression at the end anymore!

Morticia grabs her left leg and throws it like a spear - with enough strength to splinter wood, she’s tested it. It hits the man - in control of the laser - in the throat. It also separates his head from his shoulders. 

Her leg lands foot first and jumps a few times to balance itself. 

One scientist runs screaming. 

The scientist in the elevator is whimpering. He stares at Morticia as though she’s a demon come to life. He was very good at wordless compliments, wasn’t he?

She smiles at him in an equally silent ‘thank you’ and turns away to welcome her left leg jumping back to her. It was covered in blood, just like the corridor behind it. 

Morticia sits down from where she’s been standing on her thigh stubs and goes about reattaching her legs. 

She stands - one leg coated in drying blood - and picks up the skirt of her dress from the floor. Morticia holds it out against her hips. Should she try to put it on over the minidress? It would be like wearing a long dress with a tucked in shirt…

Morticia tests the stretchiness of the fabric. And then puts it on. 

It wasn’t perfect - didn’t hug her waist at all - but it held well around her hips to stay put. It didn’t hide her feet nor a portion of her calves, either. Morticia pursed her lips. 

Well, it would do for now. 

Morticia turns to her companions. They’re both pressed to the back of the elevator, on opposite corners. She smiles. 

“Let’s continue on our way, “Morticia says and extends a hand to help them up. Neither of them takes it. 

She leaves Lucas alone - he doesn’t have to come with her, after all - but Mr. Estraneo Scientist has a prior commitment with Morticia. 

Morticia pulls him up and it takes a few moments for him to find his feet under him. She looks him in the eye. 

“Don’t forget the reason we’re here, Mr. Estraneo, “Morticia reminds him. Her smile is cold. 

The scientist visibly swallows and gives a jerky nod. 

Morticia presses a hand at his back and pushes gently to get him going. He takes a few steps and stops, not stepping out of the elevator and onto the bloody scene. Advanced weaponry crushed to pieces and white coats dyed red. 

“It’s… “the scientist hesitates in saying, but the sight before him seems to encourage him, “it’s not on this floor.”

Morticia blinks at him, and then looks over his shoulder to the corridor. An attempted ambush? How sneaky of Mr. Estraneo. She hadn’t thought him capable of such level of strategy. Morticia was impressed. 

“Well, take us to the correct floor, “Morticia says. 

The man shuffled over to the buttons and presses hopefully the correct floor this time. 

The doors close. The elevator smells of urine. 

Morticia carefully doesn’t look anywhere near Lucas. That laser seems to have really frightened him. Poor dear hasn’t moved an inch. 

She would’ve thought that all children would love lasers, but perhaps he was in a delicate state of mind. 

The doors open and -

There are more scientists waiting for them. Morticia smiles in exasperation. 

She hopes it’s at least the right floor. 

Morticia wraps a hand around Mr. Estraneo’s neck. Her nails leave light cuts on the thin skin and she doesn’t even have to put any pressure to do so. 

“Is this the correct floor?” she asks, leaning down a bit to ask the question into his ear. 

He moves at if to nod, but thinks better of it. 

“Ye-! Yes! It’s the right floor this time! I swear-“ he scrambles to reassure her. 

Morticia hums and pushes him forward. She removed her hand from his throat once they’ve exited the elevator. 

“Don’t shoot please!” Mr. Estraneo pleads of his colleagues. They don’t lower their guns. 

Morticia presses a hand at his lower back and pushes him more forcefully. 

“Keep moving, “she tells him. And then runs past him, at the group of scientists. 

Morticia lands a few well placed kicks and slices flesh with her nails - all aimed for necks. By the time Mr. Estraneo stumbles to her, the threat is gone. 

She replaces her hand back on his neck, paying no mind to the blood on her hands. 

And they keep moving forward. 

Luca stays behind. 

—-

They go though few more stops, but finally make it to their destination. 

Mr. Estraneo opens the door with a pleasant creak. This room looks appropriately like a control room of some sort. Or at least a surveillance room. 

It’s full of screens showing various parts of the building. Quite a few of them show bodies in white coats littered on the floor. Along with some nice, decorative blood splatters, of course. 

“Oh- Over there, “the scientist points at one of the tables with buttons and flashing lights. He makes no move to walk forward until she does. Like a well trained pet. 

When they reach the table, he begins fiddling with the buttons and Morticia can see a 3-dimensional representation of the building in the main screen. All the doors in the lower levels - the cells - flash as though they’ve been selected. 

The scientist presses a release button and all the locked doors slide open in the screens. Morticia can see some children immediately bolt out the door, while others take a moment as if waiting for the other shoe to drop. 

Morticia thoughtfully drums her fingers on the man’s throat.

In various screens, she can see the little devils sculking down the halls and slaughtering any man in a white coat they came across. Children after her own heart.

The throat under her fingers trembles. Morticia considers letting him live - though if she didn’t get him, one of those children might. 

The man had done as she’d asked of him, though, so Morticia lets go of his throat. He stays still. 

“You may go, “she tells him. 

She watches him scurry away, tripping over himself all the while. Doesn’t even close the door after himself.

Morticia turns to the camera feeds and watches the man stumble his way in and out of different screens, before meeting his end to large, spiked tentacles that break through the walls and floor of the corridor he’s running through. Morticia glances at a few other monitors to see that the tentacles don’t come from a large octopus or the like, but rather seem to extend into the adjacent rooms before both its solidity and color slowly evaporates into a thick mist. Solid illusions? 

How delightful!

There’s been plenty of illusionists in the Addams lineage - and even some that played around with horrifying hallucinogens - but never has Morticia heard of any who have managed to make their nightmares reality seemingly out of thin air!

Morticia admires the deadly illusions through the screen - can already imagine how fun illusions like that would be to share with her family,  _ oh! _ the children would love it! - when she notices a disturbance occurring in a different monitor. 

Some of the remaining scientists have rallied together. Morticia frowns. 

In any other context, their deadly weaponry and rather fetching ability to simultaneously set themselves aflame and be completely fireproof to those flames would be very alluring. However, they are using it to hurt children, and Morticia cannot let that stand. 

She doesn’t know the building nor would she have any way to know which room that camera is in, if it wasn’t for the very helpful, laminated sheet of paper that sat on the desk. It takes less than a minute to break the code in her head, and then she’s reading the locations of the cameras. There’s also a page of blueprints for the building written in the same code. 

It takes her another minute to memorize all of it. 

Morticia walks out the door, and for the first time in the last 24 hours, knows exactly where she’s going. 

—-

Morticia steps out of the elevator and onto a battlefield. 

It looks like the fighting leaked out of the room it had been contained in and into the adjacent rooms and corridor. Many walls had come under heavy fire and broken down. 

It was a small scale war between the scientists and the children. 

Morticia spots Luca, he seems to have discovered how to use the shadow tentacles that he’d gotten from the blood ritual. His opponent is swallowed by the void. 

“Luca, “she greets him and asks, “would you like some help?” 

Luca whips around to face her. A moment passes as he takes in Morticia - her dress tattered and more bloody than he’d last seen it. But this time, so was he. 

Morticia hums in approval at his blood stained form. Luca’s hands were positively soaked in red. Or had been. They’re more brown and flaking now. 

Luca opens his mouth and closes it. Seeming at a loss of words, he looks around at the battle they stand at the outskirts of. Luca looks back at her - head tilted down in implied submission, but not enough to take his eyes off of her - and nods. 

Morticia smiles at him, warm and reassuring. And then she’s gone. 

She slashes the throat of a scientist ready to shoot the back of Luca’s head. 

In a blink of an eye, Morticia is halfway down the corridor. Three more men are dead. 

Morticia skirts around the large, illusionary tentacle monster that’s eating five men. Instead, she thrusts her hand through a man’s chest. 

A boy twists around to stare. His eyes are wide as he registers that she just saved his life. One of this eyes is a beautiful, blood red. 

The tentacle monster stalls at the same time as the boy. 

“Is that one yours?” Morticia asks, head tilting towards the monstrosity. 

The boy - maybe age six - blinks at her and nods hesitantly. 

Morticia smiles. 

“It’s a beautiful creation, “she compliments and then asks, “Have you tried adding spikes to it?”

The boy stares and - without even looking at it - the tentacles grow thorn-like protrusions. Morticia beams at him. 

“Oh! Those are lovely!” Morticia says. She eyes at how the monster’s strategy in killing changes with the spikes.“Don’t forget to play with your food, dear.” 

Morticia rips her hand out of the body and blood splashes on both of them. Not that it makes much of a difference on their appearances. 

She moves on to slice through a man holding a child hostage and gently sets down the child. 

“Are you alright, dear?” Morticia asks. 

The child hisses at her and stumbles back to put some distance between them. She watches them - makes sure they aren’t badly injured - before stepping away. 

The girl doesn’t attack. Morticia looks nothing like the scientists - isn’t wearing the horrid white - and so isn’t an enemy. 

Morticia helps a few more children against backstabbing scientists. Part of her skirt is burned off. 

She stops interfering once it looks like the children are winning. Morticia still keeps an eye on them for anyone who might be struggling, but this win would be theirs. 

Morticia tilts her head and pauses to listen. She can hear the distant beating of a heart, it thunders rapidly. A scared little rabbit. Hiding. 

Too strong for a child’s heartbeat. 

She walks away from the rapidly closing war behind her and hunts. 

In a room only half destroyed by the battle, there’s a large, wooden closet. Morticia strolls up to it and opens it. 

A man hides, crouched at the bottom. And he bursts out as soon as she opens the doors. 

He doesn’t run far. 

He stops upon seeing the results of the war. The bloody remains of his colleagues. 

He tries to run again, but there’s nowhere to run. It’s all too easy to shepherd him into a corner. 

“You can’t just slaughter an entire Family like this! The Vindice will hear of thi- A mafia Boss is worth more than just-” the man shouts, tongue tripping over itself in it’s frantic attempt to find something - anything - to give her pause. 

And pause she does.

“Your the one in charge here?” Morticia asks. She places a hand on the wall behind him.

The man glares at her even as he cowers lower, sliding down the wall. Pride even during the fall.

“And you are aware that your family has been experimenting on children? Children that wanted no part in these experimentations?” she demanded. Her nails dig in to the metal. 

The Estraneo Boss puts up a token protest, “What would you have us do? We have clients- We are trapped here! We can’t take a step out our own front door before being slaughtered like pigs! We need the few clients we have left to keep feeding the people we have- To  _ live-  _ !“ 

Her nails drag down the wall - leaving deep welts in the metal and creating a piercing screech. 

“Pain is fine- Great, even. And so is experimenting and learning the limit of your humanity. Sharing these joys with your family is wonderful for bonding with each other. But, “Morticia pauses. Her hand is level with his throat and she continues the grooves in the wall. Horizontally now.

“Don’t you know, Mr. Estraneo? Consent is the name of the game, ”Morticia says. Her lips twist in a mocking smile, made all the more terrifying by the red,  _ red  _ of her lips. 

Her nails slice right through the delicate throat.

Morticia ignores the rapidly cooling blood that splashes on her. Her dress is ruined anyway.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One last hurdle and the children are free. The Addams Family has its debut without even realizing it.

Morticia steps out of the elevator and down the long hall. The little tune fades as the doors close behind her.

She hums a dark melody and feels the echoed reply reverberate through her ribs. The runes carved under her skin burn like a bath of hot coals and magma. Again, there’s a distant reply to her incantation. She can’t help, but smile. Oh,  _ Gomez _ .

Morticia opens the first door in the hall, to a lab. And closes it. Not the lab she’s looking for.

It’s unfortunate that she can do no more than communicate her continued existence to Gomez. An oversight to be fixed, in the future. For now, her family will have to go on with only knowing she is alive, if elsewhere.

She opens the next door, too. A frown tugs at her lips, Thing was much faster at finding things.

The door doesn’t creak once. None of them do.

Morticia continues down the hall until she finds the right room - the lab with the large, arching machine that now smells of ozone and despair. Her favorite perfume. 

And smoke. The machine is smoking.

Oh no, did it break? Morticia hurries to the contraption and its controls. 

She reads through the error log. The machine overloaded - most likely after the one use - and parts would have to be replaced.

Morticia straightens. Unable to handle more than one use? Definitely not an Addams machine.

The slap of little feet wander closer and Morticia turns to see the adorably gaunt faces of the children. Their tiny faces are wonderfully pallid. But what could have made their expressions twist in such worry?

They stop at the open door - not quite blocking the doorway, leaving room for her to walk out unhindered if she so wished - and stand looking at her fearfully. But the fear is not aimed at her. 

“Did something happen?” Morticia asks. She walks to them and crouches to look at the closest one in the eye.

The children look amongst themselves with pinched expressions. They’re little chests heaving, they shuffle around until Luca steps forward. He gasps for breath like he’d been running. All of them are.

Morticia can feel the dark tendrils entwined around his bones - hidden under the surface - and she keeps an eye on them as Luca begins to speak.

“Plea- Please, “Luca rasps out, gulping in air like he can’t get enough, “I- We can’t-!” Luca takes a minute to catch his breath and to straighten his posture. 

His eyes are still hesitant in meeting her eyes, but this new fear seems to outweigh any opinions he had of her. “Some of the kids tried to leave, but- ...They were shot down! As soon as they stepped out the front door, they were shot and we couldn’t even see from where!”

Morticia frowns and extends her hearing. Past the rapidly beating hearts of the children in front of her and through the walls. Past all the tiny, delicate hearts within the complex. 

Outside. Slow beating hearts and calm breathing. 28 of them. 

Whoever was outside wasn’t afraid. 

“More Estraneo?” she asks. It was possible that some scientists had deemed it better to leave the building and take care of the survivors as they bottlenecked at the doorway. However, they felt too calm to be the scientists she had met within this building. 

Luca shrugs, shaking his head in jerky motions. 

Morticia smooths a hand over her dress and glances back at the machine. That could wait.

“I will take a look then, “she assures, but doesn’t head to the front door. Instead, Morticia follows a memorized path. A path leading to the roof.

The children follow, a distance away. Up as far as the elevator will take them, up the stairs, and out the door.

The chill gust of wind greets Morticia to the roof and she pulls a few strands of hair from her lips. 

Morticia keeps walking - towards the edge of the roof - and towards where she can hear most of attempting assassins. 

The Estraneo’s building is in a forest. That’s all Morticia has a chance to glimpse before the top half of her head is gone. 

If she still had eyes, Morticia would have blinked. Instead, she steps back to hide behind the lip of the roof. She can barely hear the shots. 

So there were a few snipers hidden within the camouflage of the forest. 

The Addams family has many snipers in the family lineage. 62 alive, 87 undead, and many more ghosts happy to teach any Addams who asked. 

Morticia is one of them. 

Her head is regrowing itself even even as she steps back. Morticia turns back to the children - her steps still the epitome of grace. 

The skin of her bald scalp itches until new hair sprouts and doesn’t stop growing until it reaches her lower back again. She blinks, and yes, her eyelids are back as well. Morticia bends her knees and leans down to be closer to eye level to the children. 

“Can you bring me any weapons you can find?” She asked them. 

Luca and the children behind him stare in mute horror. Then, they nod and scutter away.

Morticia turns back. And rips her arm off.

She holds back on regrowing her arm - to keep the connection with her torn arm strong - and wiggles her fingers. Morticia is reminded of Thing. Will there be a helpful, disembodied hand to assist her around the house in this world? 

Morticia doesn’t even have a house here.

She frowns down at her torn arm and flexes it thoughtfully. 

She’ll… She’ll have to get a new home. At least a temporary one. One to live in while she fixed the machine. 

Morticia hears the small footsteps of the first few children returning from their assigned mission.

She stops. The children.

The children will need a home, too.

Morticia straightens her severed arm - hand flat and ready to be used as the world’s deadliest spear - and decides then and there. She won’t return home, until she’s sure that these children will be taken care of. After all, she doesn’t have to live in the house for it to be home to them.

Her arm arcs in the sky and dips down. 

One less heart beat. 

She can’t help but sigh as she remembers the competitions Gomez and her had. Target practice was one of her favorites. 

Morticia wiggles her still disembodied hand and digs through the chest of her latest victim. She can’t see her arm nor the assassins hiding, so she can’t quite do what she had done with her leg earlier, unfortunately. 

She’ll leave her arm down there, just in case. 

So she turns to the four children waiting behind her - whose arms are full of anything from gleaming silverware to a blood splattered crossbow - and smiles at them. 

“Let's take a look at what you brought, “she tells them. 

They carefully drop their loot to the floor and step back. Each child keeps a weapon on them and Morticia smiles. Still so untrusting.

“No, no, not that one.” Morticia holds out her hand out for the small knife in the girl’s hand. The girl freezes and - glancing at the other three children - hesitantly hands it over. Morticia replaces it with a cleaver.

The girl blinks and her little arms buckle under the new weight, before steadying. Much better.

Under their incredulous stares, Morticia turns the small knife in her hand and gets a feel for it. Then, she tosses it back. She is busy deciding between a fork or a spoon when the knife hits its target and silences another heart.

Hm. The fork is sharper, but the spoon is made of metal. Well, if they need utensils later on, they can just get new ones. 

The plastic fork finds home in a woman’s throat and the spoon finds one in a man’s eye.

Morticia picks up the crossbow. Not quite up to the craftsmanship of an Addams crossbow, but that’s fine. Still such a darling weapon.

12 arrows and 25 hearts remaining. Oh, and- two were running away. 

No sense of adventure, those two.

Probably the types to run away from a cave honeymoon, too. Morticia hopes they aren’t married. 

Her disembodied arm finds another assassin and climbs up the pant leg. The heartbeat rises as they struggle to remove her limb, but her nails are sharp and easily cut through cloth and sinew. Her fingers dig between ribs and shred organs. The man’s heart slows to a stop.

12 arrows and 22 hearts. Morticia lets the arm degrade and regrows another. She murmurs against the crossbow and scratches a sigil to its stock. 

With arrows and crossbow, Morticia crawls up to the lip of the roof. 

Wind. Calculate for arc. Aim. 

The arrow sails off and another soon after. Both of them burst with dark tendrils to swallow the targets whole.

Morticia uses up the remaining arrows and moves back, when something arcs in the air. It clacks onto the roof and rolls to her feet. It explodes.

Her ears ring as they heal, along with the front half of her body. The back of her dress lays in tatters. 

More bottles are thrown - both onto the roof and through windows - and a fire breaks out. Red fire.

They remind her terribly of Uncle Tic, but a thought slices through her musings.

The children.  _ The machine. _

Three more assassins run away. Eight left, and only two with molotov cocktails.

Morticia throws two forks, but a fire has already started within the building. Smoke rises from the windows. It was much less smoke than she would expect, even with the strange fire coloring. But there was no time for that.

She quickly turns back to the children behind her.

“You need to leave.” Morticia tells them. “Don’t use the front door,” all the remaining assassins have their guns pointed at it, “instead go to the -2th floor. The last room is connected to a tunnel that will take you out of the forest.”

The stare at her frightened and she tears her arm off again.

“If you run into anyone, use this.” 

One of the boys cautiously grabs the arm, holding it out as far as possible from himself. She holds his hand. 

“Take any other children you see, “Morticia orders and the children run down the stairs. 

Morticia worries for them, non-Addams children are so delicate.

Fortunately, so are non-Addams adults.

Morticia grabs a carving knife and jumps off the roof. With a whirl, she lands knife-first onto an assassin. The knife cracks through the skulls down through his throat.

Five hearts left.

She has to do this fast, the children and the machine are at risk.

Morticia hurls the knife towards the next closest-

Her disembodied arm is tapped and she lets go of the boy’s hand. Straightens it like a spear. 

Did they run into trouble?

The hand meets against a chest - too big to be a child’s - begins to dig her fingers through it. Unfortunately, she doesn’t have the incantations Thing has, and cannot see through the skin of disembodied limbs. Another oversight to correct. 

Morticia pulls out the carving knife and swirls around to slice at the woman behind her. 

Three hearts left. They beat fast, in fear. 

What a delightful sound. 

Morticia spends precious seconds dispatching them, before turning to the front door and its pile of bodies. All of them in various stages of decomposition. 

She would have moved them, but the strange, red fire takes care of it for her. Helpful, but worrying for the children - trapped in a building with that fire. 

Much of the front entrance is already disintegrated, but the fire’s potency seems to have slowed. 

Morticia rushes past through the fire - skin burning and healing, only for the new skin to burn away, too - and shrinks her hearing range to better focus on the children. 

The next few minutes are a blur of heat, crumbling walls, and rushed conversations as Morticia directs the children to the exits. Until at last, every little heartbeat stands outside the complex.

It’s fortunate that the machine room is one floor lower from the main entrance.

Morticia claws through flooring and cement - the material crumbling under her hand - until she can fit through the hole. She runs to the machine.

It’s smoke mingles with the smoke of the fire. 

Morticia won’t be able to fix it now. But that doesn’t mean she won’t have time to fix it later. 

She steps closer to the machine, quickly she begins murmuring an incantation and tugs at the darkness nestled underneath her skin until it stirs. Morticia scrawls sigils on the walls and floor around the machine until the air seems to writhe. 

Morticia weakens the machine’s connection with this dimension.

Her bones snap and skin tears as twisting shadows shoot out of her ribcage. The shiny, black tendrils coalesce into one and grow larger and larger  _ and larger _ . 

The tendril grows a large, gaping maw and teeth sharp enough to cut through the fabric of time. And it swallows the machine whole, along with the flooring and wall it was attached to. 

It will remain hidden in the belly of a beast, until she calls for it once more. 

The Beast shrinks back into Morticia, _ through Morticia _ . Her bones grind uncomfortably as the tendrils slither through. Like seaweed stroking the legs of the careless. 

The sigils show themselves - covering her bones, her organs, and the underside of her skin - but only once. Dark magic and curses. Overlapping and layered on top of one another.

The last tendril disappears from this plain of existence, through the piece of the void that lives within Morticia. And the sigils fade with it.

Morticia takes a breath.

Bones snap back into place. Skin and sinew reknit itself together, and she once more stands whole and nude and scarless. 

Morticia eyes the remaining crater. Loose wires and crumpled pieces of concrete hang from the edges, precariously. 

It’s unfortunate that Morticia can’t use The Beast to travel home. Living creatures of flesh cannot cross through that path between dimensions. Even an Addams wouldn’t survive the trip. Yet.

For now, Morticia will have to focus on the machine. And the children, of course. Goodness knew those children needed a home. A good, proper home with a nice grave in the backyard. One near a nice, damp cave where they could go play in. 

Fire continues to lick at her skin, a tickling burn. 

Morticia shakes herself from her thoughts and turns her back to the wreckage. Instead, she stares at the flames which seem to cling to every surface, including materials that aren't flammable.  

With the children out of danger, Morticia takes the time to experiment with the strange flames. They burn - as any proper fire should! - but more than that, they seem to disintegrate that which they come in contact with. Is this how fire worked in this world?

Fascinating, but would she be able to find new clothes in this fire?

Morticia hurries up to the upper levels - toying with the red flames all the while - to where the living quarters reside. 

Many of the closets she came across were full of white coats which Morticia couldn’t understand. Didn’t they have enough squirreled away in secret compartments in their labs? She just can’t resist the full body shudder at all the white. 

However, Morticia does end up finding some nice, black clothing. There’s a few black turtleneck sweaters in one of the scientists’ rooms, and - luckily - black pants seem decently common. 

No full, black dresses, unfortunately. 

Morticia stretches out one of the sweaters out to admire the knitted design in the mirror. It has that perfection of machine manufactured knitting, but that was alright.

Even if Morticia prefered her own hand knitting. It was much easier to sneak in protection sigils when no one looked too hard at the designs.

The bottom of the mirror is singed as fire licks at its edges. 

Morticia brushes a hand against the fascinating fires one last time and leaves the room. 

\--

They stay long enough to watch most of the Estraneo complex cave in on itself. The supporting structure must have fallen apart from the fire.

At some point, the red fire fades and leaves behind the fire Morticia is more familiar with.

She eyes the remains curiously, before herding the children away. They meet up with those who left through the other exits. 

Morticia expands her hearing once again, stretching out until she can hear the distant murmurs and heartbeats that signify a town. 

“Let’s make our way to the nearest town, alright dears?” she asks the wide-eyed, blood splattered children. 

There’s a tense silence as all the children walk with her. No one speaks up, but they glance at each other suspiciously without trying to get caught. Adrenaline still ran high. 

They’re suspicious of each other - and of her - no doubt. 

“...Who. Who are you?” comes the quiet question.

The small child stares up at her. Luca. The boy she saved mid-experimentation.

The question comes to her as a surprise, but Morticia is not caught so off guard that she forgets the customs she’s learned of this world.

“I am Morticia Addams, of the Addams Family, ”she replies.

There’s a murmur of conversation as the children seem to absorb this information.

“... _ What _ are you?” The question cuts through the commotion like a knife. A glittering, red eye peeks at her from the darkness. 

Morticia smiles. Such a bold question.

“An Addams.” Her shadow ripples and the Void peeks through her dark eyes.

There are no more questions that night.

Together they they reach a town and find a nice, grimy alley to sleep in for the night. 

Morticia has a pang of longing for her tanning reflector. The full moon was just perfect for moonbathing. 

\--

Morticia awakens to a horrifying skeleton hovering over her, its teeth and phalanges as sharp as knives.

Her mouth parts in wonder and she reaches for it.

The skull is smooth, but not quite what bone actually felt like. Like it was made by someone who’s never touched cleaned, human bones before.

A movement catches her attention.

“Oh, is it one of yours?” Morticia asks.

A small boy with purple hair and a single, blood red eye stands behind the creation. The tentacle illusion boy.

“It looks wonderful. Have you considered adding some blood splatters, perhaps?” she continues.

His smile twitches as if struggling to keep smiling, but Mortica doesn’t see why. It was a wonderful monstrocity. How she wished Cousin Slip was here to give him pointers. There was so much potential in these physical illusions.

Not only that, but his  _ eyes _ . 

His eyes speak of years beyond his physical age. He looks seven, but as an Addams, Morticia knows the real question is: For how long?

But she won’t ask.

The skeleton shifts to lift one of its claw-like hands. Color blooms from the hand, turning it pink and then red. The color and viscosity adjusting until it looks identical to blood. 

Morticia hums her approval as she drags a finger through the liquid. It even smells and feels like real blood.

She turns to the boy and gives him a warm smile.

“The blood came out wonderfully realistic, ” Morticia compliments.

The boy’s little eyes widen and he stiffens where he stands. His eyes dart around - searchingly - like he has no idea what to do in this situation.

Then he clamps down on whatever emotion he’s feeling. Shoulders straighten out, eyelids lower, and smile widens once again.

“...Thank you, “he murmurs and Morticia decides against calling out his false bravo.

The illusion dispels itself as Morticia stands.

She eyes the sleepy children. Some are midway through waking up while others are already watching her with sharp, cautious eyes.

They all need a place to sleep. Morticia doesn’t mind sleeping out in the cold, hard ground, but she would prefer to have a roof over the children’s heads.

“Perhaps I should look for a job…?” she wonders.

It’s been a long time since she’s had to look for one. The last time she’s gone job hunting, finding a job was relatively easy. 

Keeping a job, Morticia found, was much harder.

Morticia watches the children wander through the the streets. Some had already left, looking confident enough that Morticia was sure they would figure something out. 

More will probably break away from the group as time passes. Regardless of her help, Morticia was still an adult in their eyes. A very, very dangerous adult. 

She turns to the young illusionist who has not stopped studying her since she woke up.

Morticia crouches to look at him at eye level.

“What do you think? Would you like to join me in my job hunting?” she asks him.

“Sure.” The boy’s smile stretches too wide. He’s got the Addams charm, this one.

Morticia gives the boy another glance over.

“Oh, pardon me, “she says, “What’s your name?” Morticia can’t keep calling him ‘boy,’ even if just in her mind.

He stands there, eyes sharp and tiny body covered in blood.

“...Mukuro Rokudo.”

\--

The children that leave Morticia integrate themselves into the homeless population almost seamlessly. There’s a scuffle or two over territories, but even that falls under the radar of most. Fighting among the homeless is common, after all.

But even the various Families know that the homeless hear the furthest.

So when a man or two comes snooping for information in exchange for food or money, the inquiry spreads. 

_ Who killed the Estraneo Family? _

The tiny, new children of the streets find themselves holding a very juicy piece of information. They have no reason not to share it, and the information spreads.

_ Who else, but the Addams Family? _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Years everyone, hope your year has been delightfully spooky. <3

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Don’t forget to leave a review on the way out!
> 
> And you can always ask questions about this crossover at daesofthepen.tumblr.com


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